


Times Of Turmoil

by casstayinmyass



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - The Old Papas Are Still Alive, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Cigarettes, Copia Is A Tired Rat Man, Crack Treated Seriously, Cranky Copia, Cravings, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Humor, I Wrote This At 5 AM Because What Is Sleep Anymore, Immortality, Implied Sexual Content, Papa III Being A Little Shit, Secrets, Self-Esteem Issues, Smoking, Unhealthy Habits, what even is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23503480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Copia tries to kick an old habit, fails, but doesn't want to let you down. Enter: chaos and dumbassery.Aka Copia really wants to pick up smoking again bc he's immortal and he can, but as usual, life is against our poor tired rat man and Shit Happens
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Reader, Papa Emeritus Zero | Papa Emeritus Nihil/Sister Imperator
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	Times Of Turmoil

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know why this entered my brain help me

“Ah, shit. Fuck!”

You listen to your partner bang around in the other room, looking for something in the closet. You hear another crash, more cursing, and sigh. You’d better go see what’s wrong.

“You destroying the place in here?” you ask, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorway to the bedroom.

“I am very ready to,” he nods, pointing a finger. You raise an eyebrow.

“What are you even looking for?”

“My belt! Nihil is going to toss me under the guillotine faster than you can say ‘miasma’ if I lose it again. Where the… fuck…”

“Here. Maybe I put it away somewhere, I’ll help you look.”

“Where could you have put it where I would not have found it myself already, eh?!” he snaps at you, and you pause. His eyes widen, and he rushes over to you. “Oh, my love, my dear, I am so sorry.” He shakes his head, glancing skyward in exasperation. “I did not mean to be such an ass.”

“What’s gotten into you?” you ask, watching your usually docile man kiss your hands in apology.

“I just…” he tosses his hat to the corner of the room. “It’s been a month without a single damn cigarette. A month! Do you know how hard that is for me?”

“Well… shouldn’t you have gotten over your cravings by now?” you try, and he sits on the edge of the bed, running his hands through his hair.

“(y/n), I’ve been a smoker since the Black Plague. Your cigarettes today are highly addictive, moreso than the leafy crap I lit up back in the day.”

“I think it’s good that you’re trying to quit,” you say, sitting next to him.

“Why? I can’t die after the pact with Lucifer I made to take away my disease. It’s a small stress reliever that helps me through all of this. Especially now, being the Ministry’s frontman. You have no idea how stressful it is to double as ghoul wrangler and singer, especially with Papa Nihil breathing down my neck.”

“I’m telling Dew you said that,” you smirk.

“No no, wait! I didn’t mean wrangler. I meant… gentle hearder of the ghoulish sort.” He lets out a frustrated growl that’s frankly, extremely cute. “I just want a damn smoke, is that too much to ask?”

“Yes,” you insist, “I don’t care if you smoked for hundreds of years! You’re living a healthier lifestyle now, and you don’t need that anymore. You need your voice, now more than ever.”

“If smoking was going to affect my voice, it would have done so by now. I can still perfectly cover my vocal range during Cirice, better than the asshole who first performed it.” 

“That doesn’t mean you aren’t out of breath halfway through Life Eternal!” you say pointedly. Copia and you get into a staring contest, until he finally gives up.

“Yes, I will give you that one. That note hurts like a bitch. But at least Swiss covers for it!” 

“Baby. Think about it. I’m here for you-- you can relieve stress in the bedroom if you need to.”

“Yes, that is true…”

“Or anywhere you want to,” you wink. He chuckles, patting your thigh.

“I knew I married the right one.” He gives you a quick peck on the lips, and throws his hands up, standing. “Alright, alright. I’ve kicked the habit, I’m not about to pick it back up. Gone! Out of sight, out of mind. Like my belt. Where the fuck is that thing?”

Once you leave him to his musings, he watches after you, rubbing his hands together. Like hell. There’s no way he could let this go… but he has to be smart about it.

* * *

Making sure you’re out on errands, Copia leaves your shared quarters. He heads to the spot in the Ministry where the ghouls usually congregate, and beckons Aether over.

“Hey,” he hisses, “ _Hey!”_ Aether of course drops everything to come see what the Cardinal needs. In his state, Copia fails to realize Emeritus III, who is always hungry for some juicy gossip, sitting nearby, studying some unholy texts.

“I have a big favour to ask of you,” Copia says. “Well, actually, it’s not that big. It’s fairly normal, compared to what the brothers ask for. Listen-- I need you to buy me some smokes.” 

Aether squints at him. “You quit.”

“Fuck, I know! I know, but… you know how it is… eh?” Aether did not know how it was, since ghouls never saw the point in smoking. “No you don’t, alright, whatever!” Copia waves his hand. “Just buy them for me, will you? If I get them, (y/n) will know. Then I can bum one or ten off of you, you know… as pals do, heh!” 

Aether is not convinced. “I don’t think (y/n) would like this very much.”

“You don’t have to tell her!” 

“Sure. But I’m not gonna get you cigarettes.”

Copia whines. “You have to, you’re my ghoul! You do as I say!”

“Right,” Aether says, “Not that.”

Copia nearly tears out his hair, and sees Dew walking by. “Dewdrop! Oh, I am so glad to see you, you wonderful—” Dew stops only for a second to lick the entire side of Copia’s face, then keeps on sauntering right past him. Copia sighs. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Cardinal!”

Copia turns, and sees Nihil walking toward him. _Oh, great._

“Papa!” Copia bows, “What a pleasant surprise. You’re looking well.” Nihil glares as him, looking as much like death warmed over as he usually did. Copia rubs his hands together awkwardly. “…Business to attend to this fine day?” 

“Mmm.” The elder gives him a disapproving stare. “I need to speak with you.”

As Copia follows him out to one of the terraces, he notices Three sitting there, a self satisfied smirk on his face having overheard everything. He doesn’t have time to worry though, and the two walk out to sit at one of the tables outside. “What is it that you needed to see me about, your eh, your dark Excellency?” Copia asks. Nihil holds up a finger, and gets out none other than a crumpled box of cigarettes from beneath his robes. 

“Seestor said I should not be smoking,” he says, tone conspiratorial, “And she is right, curse her dear soul. After all, I can barely breathe as it is, and I still have my saxophone solos to play. But, indulgence is the fruit of living according to the Olde One, so…” He lights one, and smiles a little. “This will be our little secret.”

“Ah… I… oh… aheh…” Desperate rat noises spill out of Copia as he tries to find a way to politely request one for himself, but Nihil moves on to the next topic.

“Now Cardinal. As you know, the European Tour is coming up, and there have been some concerns over your preparation. Most notably, from me.” 

“Papa, may I just—?”

“You have proved yourself thus far, but I am not convinced you are ready for a tour of this magnitude.” He takes a drag, and Copia nearly melts, trying to breathe in as much second hand smoke as he can. He shakes his head at himself. Since when did he become such a dirty rat man? “—Have you organized the choral arrangements for Pro Memoria and Life Eternal?”

“Yes I have. Papa, is—?”

“And the instruments, are they properly coded?”

“All of them, could I just…?”

“What of your wardrobe?” Nihil asks, shooting him a look, “You haven’t lost your belt, have you?”

Copia lets loose a string of high pitched, nervous laughter. “No, of course not, your dark Excellency, it’s at the drycleaner’s. Now, could I—?”

“Good, because I will not have someone who represents us make a fool out of the clergy by dressing like an imbecile. That means you, Cardinal!” He takes another long drag, humming. Copia is practically salivating, leaning closer and closer. Right when he’s in perfect range to at least catch some of the fumes, Nihil flicks it over the terrace. Copia smashes his head against the table, growling in frustration. He was ready to jump over after the butt, since he couldn’t die from the fall. But he’d come home to you with unsightly bruises, and that would lead to him having to lie to you, something about getting into another tussle with Papa III.

At the end of the day, he did not like lying to you, unless absolutely necessary.

“Papa?!”

Both men turn their heads, and Nihil’s white eyes widen. “Quick, you take these!” He shoves the box into Copia’s hands. Sister Imperator comes out, frowning.

“Papa! Were you smoking?”

“Of course not, Seestor. I was simply enjoying the fresh air,” he smiles, hands placed innocently in his lap. “That would be the Cardinal’s filthy habit you are smelling.”

Copia stammers as Sister turns to him, looking down at his pack. “Hm. I thought (y/n) said you quit.” She walked off, muttering about _‘not very responsible in the long run for our new frontman to be compromising his blah blah blah…’_ Nihil lets out a breath of relief, then turned his glare back to Copia.

“Get rid of those, would you? And be early for tomorrow night’s ritual.”

Copia gives him a sharp salute, and waits until Nihil is back inside to do a happy salsa dance. _Oh, praise sweet Satan!_ Finally, he can have the smoke he’d been craving in peace, without any interruptions—

His phone goes off. He digs it out, and with a whine, he sees it’s you. He answers, eyes sliding shut.

“Hello! Hello _,_ babe!”

“Hey,” you smile, “Guess who I just ran into in the lobby of the Ministry?”

“I haven’t the faintest.”

“Three!”

Copia’s heart nearly stops. “Oh, shit.”

“Shit? Why? I haven’t seen him in forever, it was a good catch up! Anyway, I’m downstairs. Wanna grab some rigatoni at Gionni’s down the way?”

“Uhhh. Yes. Yes! Let’s do that. Wonderful, cool. I’ll be right down. I’m going to hang up now. I love you very much.” He makes kissy noises, and hangs up, reversing his happy dance into a mental breakdown. He can’t possibly sneak one now without you smelling it on his moustache or white suit. “DAMMIT!” he yells, voice ringing out over the city.

“Stressed?”

Copia turns, to see the perpetually slick Papa III standing with his white gloved hand on his hip. Three struts toward him on the terrace, closing the door behind him. “You know, when one is stressed, a natural instinct would be to have a good…” he mimics lighting up, inhaling, and exhaling, body relaxing. “Puff puff.” Copia fidgets, watching him. “—Of course, myself excluded. I could not sully my angelic singing voice by becoming a slave to disgusting nicotine-pumped cancer sticks, na, na na no.”

“Do you have a point?”

“Anyway. I just saw your beautiful wife downstairs. Imagine that!”

“Did you tell her?” Copia asks desperately.

“No,” Papa shrugs.

“Oh, thank the Olde One…”

“But I will, if you don’t give me what I want.”

Copia rolls his mismatched eyes. “I knew it. Fine, what do you want, you leech?”

“I want you to personally introduce _my_ songs this tour as _mine_. Name and full titles and everything. With a tasteful amount of grovelling.”

Copia looks pained. “Every song?”

“Every song.”

“Every damn gig?”

“Yes.”

Copia grits his teeth. “Fine. You can’t breathe a word to (y/n) about this, then. Ever.”

“It’s a deal.” Papa shakes his hand, then patters his fingers over his mouth. “You know, I bet you would suck three cocks for a smoke right now.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Too bad I got dibs on sucking all the good cock around here,” Papa chuckles. “Have fun… puffing like a mad chimney, little rat man!” Papa leaves him with a dramatic flourish, and Copia gives him the finger behind his back. 

Going downstairs, your partner meets up with you, greeting you with kisses and hugs. “To the rigatoni!” he says, and leads the way.

* * *

Copia buys you flowers on the way home from dinner. They're beautiful pink roses, which he says matches your blush. "They're beautiful," you smile, "I love them." He swings your hand in his as you walk home.

"I am glad they make you happy, my sweet." You snuggle into him as he puts his arm around you, and notice him walking a little faster than your usual strolls. 

"Is everything okay? You seem a little... jittery." 

He avoids your eye contact. "Eh, me? Jittery? I'm always jittery! Nothing a good night of eating your pussy can't fix!" You laugh, bumping him lightly. 

"You know you can tell me anything, right?" You look at him expectantly, and he begins to feel sweat beading. 

"Yeah! Yeah, of course I know that. I love you so much for it, my darling." He feels his gut twist with guilt, but he doesn't want to let you down by telling you his real diabolical plans for this evening. You always had so much faith in him, and he already felt like a fuck up enough already-- he didn't want you to share the sentiment. 

Later, he waits until you’re asleep from an amazing few rounds of fucking the two of you had a half hour prior. He’s surprised he was able to get it up with his mind so hyper-focused, but it had been a wild night, and you were passed out because of it.

He looks to the balcony door, and makes good and sure you’re sleeping soundly in bed before closing the bedroom door and creeping out. Getting out his lighter, he opens the box. _Glory be._ It’s almost a full pack.

He takes one out, hands practically shaking. _Yes, yes… he can practically taste the gross ashy residue._ He sticks one in his mouth, and fumbling, lights it as quickly as possible. After making sure it’s good and burning, he finally takes the deepest of breaths, filling his lungs. 

“Ahhh,” he exhales, sitting down against the balcony wall. “Oh fuck, that feels good.” He takes another long, slow drag, letting the smoke linger and plume from his nose as he rests his head back. “Oh, I needed this. Thirty fucking days of being a cranky bitch, I needed this.” He takes another couple of deep drags, and looks down, noticing that he had almost smoked it down to the filter already. He looks inside, and shrugs. “Eh, why not? Treat yourself, Copia! Tomorrow you start a new tour, and you will be spending all your time tickling taints and fucking your beautiful wife in hotel rooms, you sexy beast.” Indulging, he lets the first one dangle as he takes another one out, and uses the end of his first to light this one. He makes sure to finish the first one properly all the way down, not wasting a bit, then stubs it out, lifting the second to his lips to chain smoke. 

The bed creaks inside, and his head perks up.

_“Baby?”_

“Shit,” he hisses, a word that seemed to be the first up in his vocabulary this past week. He listens to you start to get up, and quickly starts to speed smoke. Getting it down to halfway, he exhales, and puffs and puffs until he’s nearly at the filter. He finishes it off, and brushes the butts under a plant. As you open the door to the balcony, he shoves the carton down the front of his pants.

“Hey handsome,” you say, smiling suggestively. “Guess who’s ready for round two?” You reach out to rub his crotch.

“Eh, not me!” He yelps, covering himself. “My, uh… balls hurt. Bad.”

You frown. “Oh. Um… okay. Geez, maybe it was the roleplay?”

“Maybe. Yeah, that must be it, we were pretty rough. I’m gonna go grab a shower, you know how I like to shower after sex.”

A little disappointed, you nod, turning back inside. He feels bad, and certainly is in fact aroused by the panties you’ve got riding up your ass. “—But when I get out… I’m sure my balls will be fine by then. You’d better believe I have a little something more in store for you.”

You giggle, and he spanks your ass, hurrying inside. _Phew_. What a save.

When he finally gets back into bed, sufficiently scrubbed and mouthwashed and teeth brushed, you turn over in your sleep. He looks into your face as you lay together, and sighs. He loves you more than the world, and he feels as if he’s betraying you, leading some kind of stupid double life.

“(y/n)…” he whispers, fidgeting nervously, “I started smoking again.”

You mumble in your drowsy state, and reach forward to stroke your dumbass husband’s face. “I know, I’m not an idiot. I still love you. Now go the fuck to sleep.”

* * *

The following night after the show, Copia jogs off stage, opening his arms to everyone.

“Everybody was great! Just great! Asses everywhere, wobbled! So much fun tonight, what a good crowd, yes,” he smiles, giving Aether a pat as well as some of his other ghouls. “Did you see my wife in the front? Came to cheer me on, ah, my heart, my love eternal…” He goes searching for his things. “Phone, keys… has anyone seen my cigarettes?”

Aether snorts, and jerks a thumb back. Copia turns, to find Dewdrop perched over torn shards of the carton, chewing.


End file.
